My little boy
by TheSeasChild
Summary: I suck at summaries, so here goes: This is pretty much set during/just after the Gaia War where Percy and Annabeth are recovering back at camp from just having escaped Tartarus. In Poseidon's POV as he watches his son. ONE SHOT


They had came out of Tartarus a week ago. They had spent two weeks in the deepest, fiery pits of hell just so that they could close them damn Doors, and then made their way back to the Underworld and into the mortal world. Then the Big Guy of the Underworld himself had carried them both back to camp, where Chiron and the Apollo kids had taken care of them.

And yet they still hadn't woke up.

Poseidon held his son's hand in his. Percy's hand was small, but strong, and pale - deathly pale – and it fitted perfectly into his father's. Poseidon had to keep reminding himself that he shouldn't be there, next to Percy, but he had to. He _had _to. He caused the poor boy's misery by allowing himself to fall for Sally, and letting him be born. It was his fault that his son had nearly died in Tartarus, and he couldn't do anything to save him.

"A hero's fate..." Poseidon said darkly, his rage suddenly coming to a boil.

"A – hero's – fate." He seethed, and he felt himself heating up.

Suddenly, he snapped his gaze back to his son, where he watched in horror as his skin began to boil. All of the god's anger disappeared at the sight, and he felt the room began to cool down again. He needed to keep his godly form under control, or he'd end of killing everyone and everything he loved. And in this case, he thought, one of the last thing's his favourite son loved.

The Athena girl.

He knew she was right beside Percy, her golden, greasy curls catching the small amount of light in the room like a Celestial bronze blade. Poseidon also knew that Percy loved her more than he could ever love him. He knew that the boy hated him, and he understood why. Being a child of the 'Big Three' wasn't easy, he had been used too many times, and he had grown to detest the world of the gods.

And so had Poseidon.

Suddenly, Percy jolted in his coma-like slumber. His hand shook in his father's, a tears ran down his pale cheeks. Poseidon dropped his son's hand, and in one swift motion placed his palm on his son's forehead. He knew it was rude to watch people's dreams, but he had to. He watched, as the room around him evaporated into smoke and morphed into a different scene – including the two teenagers.

Where he was stood, Poseidon knew exactly where he was. Screams rumbled in the distance, and smoke hung thickly in the air. Tartarus. He watched as Percy doubled up over himself, clutching a huge mass in his arms. He began to shake, and as he straightened up, Poseidon saw what his son was clutching. Feather Brain's daughter. Annabeth. Her body was limp, but her chest was still rising and falling rhythmically. Gently, Percy laid the girl down, and dug into his pockets desperately. When he forced his hand into his last pocket, his face lit up, he brought his hand back out, and in it, a tiny chunk of Ambrosia.

Percy gently placed it in Annabeth's mouth, but suddenly, the girl let out a shriek.

Then Poseidon removed his hand.

He couldn't bear it. Watching his son go through so much torment was just too much, even for an all powerful god. The scene shattered like broken glass and rearranged itself back into the cramped infirmary room. Poseidon ran his hands – which were shaking so bad he knew there was going to be tsunami or an earthquake somewhere in the world if he didn't stop soon – through his messy black hair. He noticed Percy's hand reaching out and knew what for.

Without even questioning what he was going to do, the god walked over to the Athena br - no, he couldn't call her a brat, considering what she meant to Percy - and placed his hand on the girl's stomach. He might not have been the god of healing and medicine, but he was still a god, and he knew what he had to do. Carefully, he swiped his hand across the demigod's torn abdomen, and watched as the skin began to knit itself back together again. Poseidon smiled to himself, and started pushing Annabeth's little bed next to Percy's.

They slid next to each other, and as soon as they gave off the tiny _clink_-ing noise, Percy's arm shot out. As if he sensed the girl's presence, his hand found hers, and clutched at it like a last lifeline – which in his case, it was.

Poseidon sighed, his throat closing over, and leant over the boy. His black hair – identical to the god's - hung over his closed eyes, and gently, Poseidon pushed it back. On the bare skin that was there, he planted a kiss. Instantly, all the wounds on Percy's body glowed insanely white for a few moments, then as the light faded away, so did the injuries.

Knowing that was all he could do for his child, Poseidon forced himself to stand tall, and walked to the infirmary door. He wanted to walk back to Olympus – he wanted to feel... well, mortal. As he swung the white door open, he heard a slight voice speak.

"Poseidon?" Annabeth said, sitting herself up, her hand still enclosed in Percy's.

Poseidon smiled at her, suddenly happy. He didn't know where it came from, but seeing one of them alive, he said something not even he could suspect.

"Call me dad."


End file.
